


Writing Blanks

by ayasato



Category: Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Kissing, Morning Cuddles, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayasato/pseuds/ayasato
Summary: The High Inquisitor ponders over what to do with Labyrinthia’s unexpected new arrivals.





	Writing Blanks

Eve did not think this through.  
  
Mr. Wright and his assistant doze away on the ground, oblivious to the world— and to the convoluted situation they’d unwittingly stumbled into. It’s unfortunate that their problems have only worsened, especially with how hard they fought in court today. Eve sighs, rubbing her temples, hoping to assuage her building headache with the cool metal of her gauntlet; to no avail.  
  
How had she been so careless? First the innocent verdict, and now this. Perhaps it serves her right for getting involved with foreign attorneys without vetting them beforehand.  
  
Eve tightens her jaw. She’s typically loathe to get outsiders involved in Labyrinthia’s affairs, especially against their will, but there has nary been another point in time so crucial for everything to go according to plan. The future of every citizen in town relies on the events that will transpire over the next couple of days. For the greater good, the courtroom duo will simply have to play along for a while.  
  
Taking out her pocket notebook, Eve flips through it to find a blank page.  
  
“ _H-hey!_ ”  
  
She whips around at the noise to see the girl, Maya, squirming and fighting off the Shades that descend to keep her in place. So much for _dozing away_. The Inquisitor groans. There’s always a little trouble with Labyrinthians-to-be in the beginning, before the water has taken full effect, though the fact that these two hadn’t signed up for it probably won’t help their confusion.  
  
“P-please, just go back to sleep,” squeaks one of the terrified Shades, trembling in his dark robes as he tries to get Maya to sit down. “We’re not going to hurt you, we promise!”  
  
The girl recoils, looking disoriented. “What the heck?! Don’t touch me!”  
  
As the Shades swarm Maya, Eve notices Mr. Wright shift and groan from his position on the ground. Wonderful, now they’re both awake.  
  
The lawyer turns his head, taking one bleary look at the commotion, before scrambling to his feet. “Maya! What are you trying to do to her?!”  
  
The poor, scrawny Shades are defenseless against the lawyer’s vicious punches and tackles, falling away in a flurry of dark cloaks. He’s a lot stronger than Eve would have expected. Mr. Wright’s pulled Maya behind him protectively when a couple Shades creep up on them from behind, trying to grab them; Maya shrieks, flailing her arms and smacking them indiscriminately. Her lawyer friend follows it up by punching the cloaked figures away.  
  
Eve sighs; that’s enough. She reaches into her pocket for a silver bell; it’s a bit larger, a little more elaborate than the sort any of the Shades would be carrying— and rings it. Its sound is a bit different, too, though all that matters is that it’s made of silver. As expected, the two troublemakers immediately begin to falter, and within seconds they’ve fallen to the ground once more, fast asleep.  
  
The surrounding Shades all let out sighs of relief, picking themselves up, dusting off their robes and readjusting their hoods. Eve rolls her eyes, pocketing the bell.  It’ll take another day or so before everything will take full effect, but at least she’s now sure of her ability to knock out any rebellious lawyers— or their paralegals— should they cause another ruckus.  
  
One of the Shades scuttles over, bowing her head, offering Eve a quill pen and an inkwell. River water and silver bells aside, Eve muses, perhaps the most instrumental element in all of this is the ink. She adjusts her mask around her nose before accepting the pen, dipping it into the dark fluid.  
  
Her hand hovers over the blank page of her notebook, the quill tip an inch away from paper, poised to craft new realities. With the Storyteller out of town as per usual, it’s up to her to play god with the Labyrinthians’ memories. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. The idea of manipulating people’s minds so carefreely... to think the Storyteller did this as a full-time job.  
  
Eve scowls. What a selfish man, that Cantabella.  
  
But she would be different. She gazes upon the unconscious duo sprawled out on the ground before her, still gravitating towards each other in their sleep. They’ll be among the last of Labyrinthia’s new arrivals, so they won’t be here long. While she can’t guarantee them a complete paradise, at the very least, she could pen them a pleasant story to live out in their short time here.  
  
As long as they don’t interfere with her plans anymore, they won’t have a worry in the world.  
  
“Oh, Great Witch,” ventures another one of the Shades in a soft voice all of a sudden, wringing her hands. “What shall you do with them?”  
  
Eve doesn’t answer, though the voice prompts her to begin scrawling a few sentences into her notebook. In a few words, she’s already rewritten time and history. She definitely does not want any attorneys sniffing about the Witches’ Court; especially since she can’t predict whether their actions would work in her favor. The courts can be hectic, anyway. She supposes that life as a baker would be a far more tranquil experience.  
  
Besides, Labyrinthia could be a happier place in its final hours.  


* * *

  
  
The sunlight pouring in through the open window makes opening his eyes all the more difficult. Phoenix’s head feels fuzzy, and the beginnings of a headache pound at the insides of his skull. At the same time, he feels warm all over. He twitches his fingers to find that he’s under a blanket, his body swaddled by softness in a lumpy bed.  
  
It’s strange. There’s a gap, as if something is missing, trying to claw its way to the surface yet unable to do so. He reaches back, as deep as he can into the abyss of his mind, but finds nothing. Yet, like fine sand slipping through his fingers, he’s sure there had been _something_ he was looking for. Disconcerted, he shifts on the mattress, only to realise that someone is lying next to him.  
  
The moment his eyes fall on Maya, tension immediately leaves his body. How could anything be missing if she’s right here? His desperation for reason, for an answer, is quelled just by looking at her. Her endless dark hair is free of its ties, framing her face, and the sunlight casts a halo upon the crown of her head. She’s still sound asleep, blanket down to her waist and fingers curled loosely in the bedsheets.  
  
Perhaps the feeling of emptiness had to do with missing her. Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to touch her, he reaches out. His arm hesitates before he reaches over, wrapping around her back, to pull her closer to him— he’s done this before, hasn’t he?— and relishing the soothing warmth of her body against his chest.  
  
Then Maya’s eyes slip open. She stares blearily at nothing, until she notices him.  
  
For a moment, he’s frozen— both captivated by her eyes, and suddenly at a loss of what to do. She doesn’t move, either, simply watching him, not completely awake. He has to do something, right? He remembers his hand on her back; after a pause, he experimentally rubs his thumb back and forth there, massaging her skin through her shirt. The gesture appears to work; it elicits a sigh from Maya, and she allows her head to sink deeper into the pillow as she relaxes. Her hands land aimlessly on his chest, fingers wrinkling his nightshirt, and stay there. It consoles him a bit. He watches as her eyelids begin to flutter, on the verge of falling asleep once more.  
  
But the disquieting feeling of loss begins to peck at his conscious again. His chest tightens; now, he’s almost afraid of it, the unknown he can’t figure out. He tugs Maya closer in hopes of comfort— and perhaps in hopes of keeping her awake with him. It’s selfish, but if she fell asleep, he’d be left to face it all alone again.  
  
She doesn’t seem to mind, in any case, moving to rest her forehead against his collarbone. Her hand lightly strokes his chest, and her lips place a soft, almost imperceptible kiss on the skin of his neck. It simultaneously relaxes him and and sends a jolt right up to his head. He’s left with a buzz, a little inebriated on the one peck, and it less clears his mind and more fills it with happy _fluff_ that blocks out his unease. He’s glad she’s here. She might not have necessarily known that her touch was just what he needed, but they’ve always been on a similar wavelength.  
  
Consumed with affection, he uses the momentum to touch her more. He runs his hand up her side, languidly slipping under her shirt, stopping short of her breast to caress her ribcage. Her skin is so soft, so cute. Another sigh rolls through her body, and he feels the rise and fall of her chest under his hand. He’d thought about it before; how her stature is so small that her every curve would fit right into his palms, and they certainly do. He strokes her skin slowly, back and forth, watching her eyes fall closed again in contentment. It’s a routine they’ve played out for years— his hands on her skin, her face buried in the crook of his neck.  
  
Maya snuggles closer, her soft chest up against his, and he feels her hands land almost shyly on his shoulders. His heart picks up speed. Her dark eyes are hooded as she looks at him, before they dart down towards his lips and back again. Heart drumming away, he leans in, hopeful, and she presses her lips to his.  
  
Her lips are so soft and their kiss so gentle, so unsure, as if it were their first, but it is no less electric. Heat spreads throughout his chest as he melts into their kiss, trying to pull her closer, and he feels her wrap her long legs around his. Growing bolder, he takes her lower lip in his, sucking on it a little, and she lets out an exhale. The flush blooming in her cheeks is so red. He can only imagine how he himself looks, because his face is aflame, be it with affection or the strange bashfulness that has lurked their morning petting uptil now.  
  
They part for breath. Maya’s expression is winded, a little confused, but she tightens her grip on his shoulders as she leans in for another kiss. Then another, then another when the tip of her tongue pokes experimentally at the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth for her to explore.  
  
It’s like he’s floating. They lay there for seemingly hours, sharing kisses and licks and nips under the warmth of the morning sunlight. Every kiss melts away another layer of doubt, of any question that anything could ever possibly be off, because he’s quite sure life has reached perfection at this very moment. He caresses her breast, supple and cute, and she indulges in tasting the skin of his neck, massaging his skin with her lips.  
  
Life begins to stir beyond their door. He overhears Aunt Patty sorting the pans out in the bakery, and Eve meowing from upstairs, trying to wake up Espella. Through the window, the shutter of carts over cobblestone and the crooning of bards slowly rouse the town from its slumber. A pair of birds have perched on the top rail of their window, and the ensuing birdsong is particularly loud. The chorus is familiar. It heralds the start of a new day.  
  
Maya realises it too, pulling away from him for a moment, and they share a look. Time for work.  
  
“Morning,” she eventually murmurs, a soft smile playing on her lips. He smiles back, stroking her cheek with his thumb.  
  
Maybe he shouldn’t overthink things too much.  



End file.
